A gift to you, my burden
by Midnight-sayasha
Summary: Yesterday he approached me and shyly offered me something. Today he did it again. Just who is this man? / slight USUK AU story with character death, Author apologizes for any confusion caused by this story derpderp /


Yesterday he approached me and shyly offered me something.

I tried to say no, I stuttered and floundered. I must have been red as an autumn leaf; I was so embarrassed. But he wouldn't take no for an answer and gently placed the object in my hand, closing my fingers softly around it before disappearing into the crowd.

Today he appeared out of thin air and timidly passed me another little trinket before seamlessly disappearing once again.

This small little…exchange, if you could call it that, had been happening on and off for the past few weeks. At first, the 'gifts' were quite small and meaningless. Small foreign coins, army men, an oddly shaped rock…

I had no idea why he kept coming to me. I'd never seen him before, and the first time I did I wouldn't really have thought anything of it for the rest of my life had he not shown up the next week and given me another present.

And ever since that second gift, I've been thinking about it, and recently I've even begun to anticipate the visits. I half expect him to show up, and when he doesn't on those odd days, I would always leave for home with a somewhat empty feeling inside.

Silly, really.

I had become attached to this stranger whom had never exchanged words with me. I didn't know his name, he didn't know mine, and those items he gave me were the only link we had. It isn't like these things even meant anything, and every time I tried to turn them down despite a warm feeling that grew inside me when it was offered.

I tell myself it's because I'm too nice. I don't want to throw things out for no good reason and I'm much to humble to accept gifts on the same basis; and so I complain while slowly adding them to a box under my bed, a small, growing collection.

A paper rose, a brilliant green marble, an eagle sticker, a tiny bottle of blue sand… I wonder if it had been dyed that way.

After I arrive home, I knew what I'd do. I'd add today's gift to the others, and go to sleep wondering about tomorrow. There was no pattern to these encounters, but I liked to think there was. After all, it's not too strange for whole weeks to drag slowly by without a glimpse of the man.

Tomorrow morning, I will wake up and briskly go through my routine. I will leave the house, dead on time and trek to catch my tram. I will work for endless hours at the local Bookstore, before reversing back to the tram, and then I will meet him.

It was so beautifully planned out in my head that it was a shame it wasn't the reality of tomorrow.

Yes, I woke up. I got dressed and jogged out of the apartment building, caught my tram and arrived at work safely. Yes, I worked for hours, my only reward being a face full of dust and a few paper cuts. Yes, I reversed my schedule and ran to the tram stop, but no. He was not there.

I was a little gutted, to be honest. I was hoping for three days in a row, a lucky number for me, to pass before he disappeared to his own life again. Of course things never go the way they're planned.

And so, I sat on the stop bench. I waited for my tram. And I waited. And waited…

I think maybe an hour passed. Perhaps more? For it was getting dark and my tram wasn't here yet. Peculiar. I stood up a little angrily and started to walk home. It wasn't a long walk, but it was far enough to wear my feet out.

I had barely gotten off of the platform when I noticed a face in the small swarms of people. That face smiled, and I think I became a bit breathless. He'd never reacted, not with such intensity. It was always a small, shy smile. Today, he was beaming.

He cut through the crowd and I turned away. I had no idea what to do. He was going to offer me another silly item or object, I knew it. Then he'd disappear again and give me a heart attack when he suddenly shows up weeks later.

A glance over my shoulder and I could see him climbing the stairs, to my platform, to me. He grinned and I must have blushed, because my face felt hot. How absurd, a grown man being scared of a fellow human being. With a huff I forced myself to turn around and face him, ready to turn down his generosity.

It wasn't a chocolate, or anything made from paper. It wasn't something picked up from the ground, or dug out of a child's drawer. I stared, a little confused as he offered me the hot drink in his hands.

He smiled again and I quickly took it, feeling foolish for pausing over something so trivial.

Then he started walking away, and I decided to follow. He had his own paper cup, filled with what I could guess was cheap coffee, and occasionally drank from it silently, his pace never halting. He walked smoothly, but I had a hard time keeping up with his pace through the bustling people surrounding us. I really was beginning to hate walking.

He led the way through the high streets with their walls of graffiti art, and through the back alleys, glowing orange against the green overgrowth as the sun hugged the horizon. I hadn't been to this part of town before, but I was more shocked at my calmness at being escorted by a stranger than the actual act of following that stranger.

He stopped and I almost walked straight into his back. He smiled over his shoulder and motioned with his cup. I looked over, across the road, to the small café. Before I could ask, he started walking again and I hurried to catch up.

It looked small and homey, a chocolate brown colour. The café held many pastries and cakes in a cute stand in the window, and I noticed with ever more confusion that the man I was walking after didn't even spare it a glance. He just kept walking.

"Excuse me?" I finally called. He glanced back at me but didn't answer with words, rather, his eyes spoke. "Where are you taking me?"

He smiled a brilliant smile and answered with a soft voice. "I'm not taking you anywhere."

I pondered this as he rounded a corner lazily, almost with an air of humour surrounding him. It irked me.

"Then…where are you going?" I asked, jogging shortly to catch up with his long strides.

"I'm not going anywhere." He smoothly replied, staring dead ahead, "What I want to know is, where are you going?"

"W-well, I'm following you!" I snipped, taken back. He laughed and I frowned, deeply humiliated.

We walked in silence for quite a while, and only as the sun disappeared and the sky melted into a creamy pink was when I began to grow annoyed at being played with. As he rounded another corner, I opened my mouth to complain, in a dignified way mind you as I followed, when I was met with blank air.

I glanced to my left, and my right. Surely, he couldn't have made a break for it in the time it took me to catch up, but there was no other explanation. He had disappeared yet again.

I would have ranted and raged, but I quickly came to realise that in the dim light I could recognise my surroundings. I was in my neighbourhood, nearby to my apartment block. Had we really walked that far? When I thought about it, I supposed we must have. The coffee in my hand was cold.

The next morning I rose early. I called in sick to work. I had a very solid plan in mind to find that stranger and demand an explanation for being left alone like that, without warning. I dressed for cold weather, as always, and left home motivated.

It wasn't until I was walking to the trams that I realised I wouldn't know where to look for him. I didn't know his name, or where he lived. All I knew was that he mysteriously showed up when I least expected.

I eventually decided just to wait at the stop the tram drops me off to on every other normal day. I hoped that he'd be there, and to my horror, he was.

He looked up as the tram doors opened, and I had the fright of my life. I hadn't really expected him to be around, let alone waiting for me. He was sitting comfortably at the tram stop, hands laced and smiling happily. I quickly regained my composure.

I had it planned, all the things I wanted to say. But he stood up and started walking and I had no choice but to follow, kept on my toes as he walked faster than yesterday and disappeared out of my line of sight more often.

Thanks to his pace, soon we were away from the morning bustle of the city, and in a more remote area. He walked down the path with his head held high, completely ignoring my displeasure and hopping over a small fence into a children's park.

When he sat on the swing set and beckoned for me, I had pretty much had it.

I crossed my arms and frowned, it took all I had not to swear. "_What_ are you doing?"

He gave an innocent look. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Don't flip my question!" I snapped. Once again, he laughed at my outburst and I could only lowly grumble in anger. I was a gentleman, after all.

"I'm leaving."

The face I received at those two words shocked me. He looked so unbelievably pained that I paused, even before he could cry out for me not to go.

"Please!" He whispered brokenly, a contrast to his startled yelp. "Stay. Please."

Not really wanting to draw attention to myself at any possible people passing by, I dejectedly walked through the child-proof gates and sat on the swing next to him, displaying all the features of a man defeated in battle.

I was a little relieved when his smile returned though, even if it was small.

He kicked the ground and swung back and forth slowly, the swings creaking and squeaking at the play. I glared from the corner of my eyes. He flashed a grin.

"You're a nice guy." He said matter-of-factly. I flushed and gaped.

"I-I beg your pardon?" I hastily fought to say, only turning redder when he laughed again.

"You're not scared." He simply explained, smiling at me with baby blue eyes. "You're different."

I pulled an offended face and he pulled the same pained look from before, quickly correcting himself. "I don't mean it in a bad way! I mean it as in…different good!"

I huffed, taken on a spin through this conversation and hardly leaving it with my head intact. "What on earth are you talking about?"

He shook his head, brushing it off and fumbled through his pockets. "I forgot to give this to you yesterday…" He nervously muttered while presenting a closed fist to me.

Reluctantly I cupped my hands beneath his and received the object that trickled out of his grasp when he released his hold. It clinked similar to rain, the silver shining in the early sun.

I sighed and held the chain between my fingers, examining the pendants dangling from the bottom. "You know I can't accept this, right?"

"I know." The man nodded, watching me carefully. "But I can't take it back."

"Why do you give stuff to me?" I asked, glancing at him and slightly wondering if I should have asked it in a more graceful way. He smiled, so I suppose it was alright.

"Well…" He softly breathed, swinging back and forth with his toes on the ground. "You were there, and you could take it, so why not?"

I scoffed. "That's a silly way of deciding things."

He laughed happily, as if in agreement, before turning back towards me. "Y'gotta take care of that, okay? Don't go dropping it anywhere!"

I furrowed my brows and he chuckled, pointing at the charms one by one. "This is my necklace, 'kay? See, it has my dog tags, the cross my mom gave me when I was three…or was I four? I think I was three- and-"

"Hold on-" I interrupted, to his surprise. "I can't take it if it's yours! Why are you giving this to me?"

He blinked. He must have thought it obvious. "Well…I want someone to remember me." He stated, not finding his reply questionable at all.

"Remember you?" I grimaced, "What is that supposed to mean?"

He gave such a gentle and sad smile that I forgot for the moment that I was supposed to be mad at him.

"You like me, don't you?" He suddenly asked with wide eyes filled with anticipation. I squeaked and blushed all at the same time. "Can't you just take it like, as a friendly gift? Or a reminder of all the great times we've had?"

"I hardly call a few minutes and a walk 'great times'!" I retorted, he pouted slightly. "And I don't like you!"

He laughed again. I didn't like that laugh. It made me feel stupid.

"Well. I like you." I blushed darker, slightly panicking. "You've got spunk! And you're talking to me, you can actually see me!"

What in blazes was he talking about? With an attitude like the one he was sporting, anyone'd talk to him. And people would definitely see him.

"Anyway." He sighed, standing up and stretching happily before turning to face me with a grin. "Time's up. Gotta run. Take care of that and yourself, alright?"

"What?" I snapped, feeling like I was in the dark much too often. "You're just going to leave?"

He rolled his eyes and I still wonder if I regret saying what I said, even to this day. With a chuckle like a wave breaking on the shore, he leaned down and pecked my cheek. "Fine, there."

I nearly screeched in shock, rage firing up inside me, but when I looked up, he was giving that gentle, sad smile again and all my words caught up in my throat.

"I'm sorry I couldn't know you better- ah." He blinked, "What's your name? I can't believe I've never asked."

"A-Arthur-!" I choked, confusion mixing with rage and leaving me dizzy.

He nodded, happy. Then he turned and left without even allowing me to ask for his.

It's almost been a year since that day. I still have his necklace, and I found out later once I had calmed down that his dog tags held his name. Carefully engraved into the silver. His name had been 'Alfred Foster Jones'.

Ever since he disappeared, I've been doing some research. It was a shock when I found out that the day Alfred had approached and started talking to me, he shouldn't have physically been able to do so.

You see, that was the day Alfred died.

The trams hadn't just been running late. There had been an accident. An Adult male had been hit by an oncoming tram whilst standing on the tracks. There were reports of it being a suicide, and those suspicions aren't just guesswork.

Almost a decade ago, from the day of Alfred's death, two boys had been playing along the train tracks. Apparently, it was Alfred and his brother in law, Matthew.

Alfred, a small child, had dropped the crucifix his mother had given him while they were playing, and had stopped to search for it, with Matthew's help. Despite their combined efforts, the necklace wasn't found, and they both realised the tram heading straight for them too late.

Matthew had shoved his brother out of the way, saving his life but giving up his own.

I may be just guessing, but I don't think Alfred committed suicide that night. He was searching for something, the object that caused the death of his younger brother; the necklace that he presented to me as a gift.

I don't know why he chose me in the first place. All those small gifts- had he been meaning to give it to me all this time? I have no idea, and no way to answer that question. Perhaps it really had been a suicide, and he'd simply come back to give the necklace away…to prove he 'existed'.

I know I won't ever receive an answer, and sadly, life just goes on. But a simple fact remains:

I was kissed by a dead man whose reason for being is hanging around my neck, forever tainted with his regret.


End file.
